Sticks and Stones
by janedoe144
Summary: Sticks and Stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me………..or will they?
1. Chapter 1

Title: Sticks and Stones

Disclaimer: These guys don't belong to me. If they did, things would most certainly be different.

Author's Note: I don't know where this came from, I just wrote it. It takes place somewhere between Weeping Willows and Grave Danger. It would probably help to assume that several weeks elapsed between episodes.

Spoiler(s): Weeping Willows

"She called me a sanctimonious prick!" Gil Grissom loudly proclaimed. It still stung; no matter how much beer he drank. "Do you think I'm a sanctimonious prick?"

"Uh, am I supposed to answer that honestly?" Jim Brass inquired. He peered around the dark bar to make sure no one was overly interested in their conversation.

"Yes!"

"Well……..maybe. I mean, sometimes you come across that way."

"I am NOT! I'm just busy, is all."

"Okay, tell me how all this got started." Brass rubbed his forehead, not believing he was sitting here with a thoroughly intoxicated Gil Grissom having this conversation.

"Well, you know, we questioned Adam Novak about those murders."

"Yeah. He's an asshole."

"You got that right! So smug………I can't stand him!"

"So what does Adam Novak have to do with Catherine?" Grissom squinted at the Miller High Life sign trying to remember.

"Catherine went out for a drink that night and guess who she had a drink with!"

"Adam Novak."

"Right. That weasel. Anyway, she neglected to tell me that. I mean, she should've pulled herself off the case immediately. But, does she? Nope! That pissed me off and I wasn't too nice about it when she started turning on the charm later." Grissom gulped the last of his beer and signaled the bartender for another round.

"So you were pissy with her."

"Pissy? That's something you would say about a woman. You know, I happen to be a MAN!"

"Well, I'm glad we got that resolved. Otherwise, it might be difficult to explain the facial fuzz."

"You are not taking me seriously."

"Okay, so you were 'short' with Catherine when she tried to make up."

"That's more like it." Somewhat mollified, Grissom threw down the shot of scotch Brass hadn't touched before continuing his story. "Then, last night, Sara didn't have anything to do and Nick was swamped so she volunteered to help him. She stopped by my office to let me know and I told her 'if swing is swamped then their supervisor needs to ask for help' so she told Nick she couldn't help him unless his boss asked. Catherine never asked so I figured they weren't really that busy. To make a long story short…….."

"That would be a relief." Brass sarcastically interjected.

"Ecklie came in early." Grissom resumed his tale as though Brass had never said a word. "He calls me and Catherine into his office. She was still there, cleaning up the experiment Nick had sat up."

"You can't fault her for working hard."

"Yeah, well………..Ecklie wanted to know why I sent Sara home early when all three members of Swing have worked multiple doubles this week. So Cath pipes up and says she didn't realize that and when Nick told her she had to ask me for Sara's help, she assumed we were shorthanded or we'd be out on a case soon. She was finished with her paperwork, and tonight's her night off so she helped him."

"What was wrong with that?"

"She lied! She knew damn well I wanted her to come ask!"

"Being pissy again!" Brass thought but said. "She covered your ass with Ecklie and that made you angry."

"You're damn right!"

"Why?"

"I didn't ask her to do that. I make my own decisions and I don't need someone to lie for me."

"Exactly when did she call you a sanctimonious prick?"

"Right after that. We went outside Ecklie's office after a little pep talk about teamwork. Funny, I can't recall he was ever interested in 'teamwork' before. I told her 'I can't believe how easily a lie comes out of your mouth.' And she says 'And, I can't believe what a sanctimonious prick you've become.' Then she stomped off."

"Hey!" Brass caught the bartender's attention after the new round was placed in front of them. "Could you call a couple of Taxi's? One for me and one for my friend, here."

"No problem." The bartender wandered off.

"Gil, I can see precisely why you never made it down the aisle."

"What does getting married have to do with it? Besides, I'm too busy to be married."

"Only because you want to be." Grissom glared at him for a moment then returned to nursing his beer. Brass thought about the situation for a bit, then observed. "You know, I think you're feeling a little guilty about this and you want things to be they way they used to be."

"They'll never be like that again, not with the team split up."

"What's done is done. You know, it could work out better for everybody in the long run."

"I miss them. I miss seeing them everyday and …………I mean, I don't even know what's going on in their lives anymore."

"Ah." Brass thought. "Here's the crux of the problem." In a way, he could understand Grissom's feelings. It wasn't unlike a divorce, except there was no court appearances and no papers to sign to make it all clear that a family had been split up. The more he thought about it, the more apt the comparison seemed.

"Gil, this isn't going to go away and pretty soon you two will hurt one another to the point that your friendship will be lost. Maybe, that's what Ecklie wanted to accomplish by splitting you up. Only you can stop that and to stop it, you have to COM-MU-NI-CATE. My advice is, talk to her and if you have to apologize to do that, then start practicing 'I'm sorry' right now. You need to get off your high-horse and realize you're losing an important relationship in your life."

"Taxi's are out front." The bartender told him.

"What do we owe you?"

"Let's see, seven beers each and six shots of scotch………one-twelve even."

"Christ!"

"Thirty year old Glenfiddich isn't cheap."

"No shit!"

"You pick up the rest and the tip." Grissom pulled a crisp hundred-dollar bill out of his wallet and laid it on the bar.

"Where'd you get the hundreds?" Brass inquired after observing more of the same denomination in his wallet.

"Poker at Sam Braun's casino, I fleeced a couple of whales there the other night."

"Do you do that just to annoy him?"

"Yes, and I annoyed him enough that he personally came down and asked me to leave."

"Who were you playing?"

"A couple of entertainment types, Johnny something or other and Brad what's his name, I can't remember. I don't keep up with who's who."

"I bet you remember the look on Sam Braun's face."

"Oh yeah, it was that nice fuchsia shade that he wears so well."

"You need to be careful around him, he doesn't exactly like you."

"Sam won't do anything to me, it might upset Catherine."

"Well, there's another reason to make up. So, you gonna talk to her?"

"Maybe."

Brass settled the tab and made his way out certain everything would be okay by the evening. Little did he know……….

"Grissom, it's nearly noon! What are you doing here?" Catherine Willows exclaimed after she answered the pounding on her front door.

"Actually, it's eleven fifteen and I decided we need to talk." He corrected and pushed his way in the front door.

"Whew! Have you been drinking or did you find a new species of bug at the bottom of a beer vat and jump in after it?"

"What was the second part again?" He asked with a perplexed frown worrying his features.

"You're drunk." She replied with a sigh. "Has it occurred to you, that I might have plans for the evening?"

"What? You gonna go kiss some second rate lawyer in the parking lot of a bar?"

"Whatever!" She huffed and made her way up the stairs. That was the second time today he heard her utter that word. It was worse than a curse in his opinion. After standing undecided for a moment, he followed her up the stairs and shoved her bedroom door open. She had already climbed back into bed.

"I thought we were gonna talk."

"You are drunk and I am tired."

"So?"

"Look, either lie down and go to sleep or get the hell out of my bedroom!" She flopped on her side, facing away from him, scrunched her pillow up under her head and pulled the sheet up over it.

"Okay." He agreed complacently. She heard him move about the room but ignored it until the covers lifted behind her and he crawled into her bed.

"Grissom!"

"What?"

"What are you doing?"

"You said 'lie down or get out'. I picked lying down 'cause the room is sorta spinning."

"You're in nothing but your boxers."

"Well, you didn't think I was gonna sleep in all my clothes, did you?"

"Fine." She turned her back to him. All was still for a few minutes then he wrapped an arm around her waist and pushed his knee between hers.

"What are you doing?"

"The ceiling fan was making me seasick. Gotta hang on to something." He muttered in her ear. She pulled her pillow closer and tried to ignore him. He began stroking her hair.

"Now what?"

"Your hair was getting in my mouth, I was just moving it out of the way."

"Right." After a couple of minutes, she felt his warm mouth suctioning the point where her neck and shoulder met.

"Don't tell me my shoulder was in your mouth."

"No, but I like how it tastes." He whispered. He pushed her hair aside and licked up the back of her neck. She flipped over to find a silly grin plastered on his face.

"Have I annoyed you enough to talk to me?" He asked innocently.

"What are you up to?" She asked, sitting up. Her breasts were heaving and the clingy satin material of her gown emphasized her movements. Grissom was mesmerized. "Hey, eyes front and center, Mister!"

"Actually, I believe they are."

"On my face!" He had trouble tearing his gaze away, certain that with a little more exasperation her left nipple would pop right out of her top.

"So?"

"I was trying to get your attention."

"I think you've got it."

"I miss you." The unabashed honesty in his eyes made her pause.

"Why?" She asked softly, all the uncertainty and doubt she'd been living with the past couple of months coming to the surface.

"I just do." She turned slightly to sit up, hugged her knees to her chest and stared across the room. He took it as sign, eased up on an elbow and cupped her cheek with his hand, turning her head toward him. "I miss knowing what's going on in your life. I miss your smile lighting up the room. I miss how you know when I feel bad and you make it better. I guess………..mostly, I miss your ……….. attention."

"I didn't think you wanted it."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Sticks and Stones Chapter 2

Disclaimer: These guys don't belong to me.

Author: Nuclearjane

Spoiler(s): Weeping Willows

Catherine stood in laundry room off the kitchen, folding clothes and waiting. Her mother was puttering in the kitchen, waiting. They were both waiting - for Grissom to make an appearance from her bedroom. Some fifteen minutes earlier, she heard her bathroom shower running when she took some towels upstairs.

"He'll definitely need a toothbrush and maybe a razor." She thought so she located a new one of each in the Linen closet drawer where she kept extras. Tiptoeing into the bathroom, she sat them and a fresh towel by the sink, then pulled the toothpaste from the drawer and sat it out so he wouldn't have to look for it. After a quick check to make sure Lindsey was asleep, she went to the kitchen, hoping to find away to get her mother to leave.

"He's up, Mom." She said.

"Is Lindsey asleep?"

"Yes."

"I'll put some coffee on."

"You don't have to do that. It's getting late, you know."

"Trying to rush me off. Why don't you want me to meet him?"

"Mom, you have met Grissom."

"Not since you slept with him!"

"I told you nothing happened. He was drunk and fell asleep."

"Right, and the Moon is made out of cheese."

"Suit yourself." She hid in the laundry room, sorted clothes and loaded the washer but didn't start it so she could hear what went on in the kitchen when he finally appeared. Her mother drove her nuts sometimes but she was thankful that she came over today. At least, it saved Catherine having to explain why Grissom was in her bed to Lindsey. Lindsey had the habit of bursting into Catherine's bedroom when she got home from school to wake her up. The conversation with her mother was embarrassing enough as it was………..

"Mom?" Catherine asked, after stumbling out of bed and down the stairs.

"Good evening, Dear." Her mother cordially answered and the warning bells clanged in Catherine's mind. "Lindsey, I thought you were going to water the flowers when we got home."

"Oh, yeah! Hi! Mommy!" Lindsey gave her a quick hug before racing out to the backyard. Catherine felt the same dread she'd felt as a teenager after being caught out past curfew.

"Okay, who is he and when did he get here? And, for God sakes, why is he still here? When I left this morning, you were in bed alone!" Her mother demanded when Lindsey was safely out of earshot.

"Uh…….." Catherine's head spun slightly, it had been along time since she'd really been subject to the maternal third degree.

"Well?"

"Gil Grissom, he showed up around Noon………."

"Your boss, Gil Grissom?" Her mother put a hand to her mouth.

"He's not my boss anymore." Catherine stammered. "He was………..drunk. Umm, we had a bad case, and anyway…………..Uh, he wanted to talk and then he passed out." Catherine leaned over the counter and rubbed her forehead. She had never been very good at lying to her mother. "I really need some coffee."

"Here, I made this about half an hour ago." Her mother poured a cup from the thermal carafe.

"Thanks."

"So, I came over to start some soup before Lindsey got home. I went up to check on you and you have some man in your bed. Now, you're telling me he's your former boss who came over drunk and just wanted to talk. Um, hmm."

"Mom, we didn't have sex and why were you checking on me?" She asked then winced slightly, thinking. "That wasn't really a lie, was it?"

"At what age do you think you'll stop checking on Lindsey? And if you don't work for him anymore, how did you have a bad case together?"

"Sometimes we have cases that overlap." Catherine defended. Lindsey came rushing back in and Catherine immediately drew her into a hug, thankful for the distraction. "Hey, baby. How was your day?"

"Great! Grandma picked me up from school and took me to the mall. I had a chocolate chip ice cream cone and I got some cool new pants."

"Sounds like it was fun."

"Yeah, and Grandma is making homemade soup!"

"How much homework do you have? Maybe we can watch a movie before bed."

"I have a Math test tomorrow. I hate Long Division!"

"I did too. Well, I'll help you study for it. But, for now, how about we help with the soup?"

"Hello." Grissom's voice interrupted Catherine's reflection. Thinking she detected a hint of trepidation in his greeting, she listened closely.

"Mr. Grissom, how are you? I just made some fresh coffee, would you like a cup?"

"Very much."

"Here it comes." Catherine thought. If he choked on the coffee, it meant her mother regarded him as if he'd just sprouted horns, cloven hooves and a pointy tail. If he liked it, it meant she viewed him as a potential marital candidate for her worrisome eldest daughter. Catherine couldn't decide which was the worse prospect.

"Umm, that's good." Grissom said after the first sip.

"You must be hungry. I could warm some soup up for you. It's homemade."

"Oh, Lord, Mother! Do you have to lay it on that thick?" Catherine thought, rolling her eyes toward the ceiling. "Ah, but this is Gil Grissom, he'll politely refuse and leave." It was hard to believe he hadn't already bolted out the door or climbed out a window. Of course, it was a long drop from any of the upstairs windows and he had bad knees.

"I would really appreciate that." Grissom replied.

Catherine's jaw fell open. She buried her face in the basket of freshly folded clothes, whimpered and wondered what the hell happened to the Gil Grissom she knew. Considering the events of the day, she became convinced he had suffered some sort of mental meltdown.

"Well, you sit right down and I'll have some hot soup in a jiffy!"

Catherine groaned and bit down on one of Lindsey's socks. Should she suggest a visit to the hospital? He wouldn't take that very well. After a moment, she started the washer, picked up the basket and headed into the kitchen.

"You're up."

"Yes." Grissom eyed her carefully, sensing her nervousness. He knew she had known he was awake from the toothbrush, toothpaste, towel and razor that appeared by the sink while he was showering. Deciding to play it by ear, he kept quiet. Catherine sat the laundry basket on a stool and approached her mother.

"Mom, please?" She whispered.

"Okay, as soon as his soup is ready." Her mother glanced at him before conspiratorially whispering. "You know, I think he's rather handsome. The beard suits him, makes him seem more mature."

"Mom!" Catherine's tone had that whiney quality she associated with Lindsey when being denied something she didn't think she could live without.

"Five minutes and I'll go." Her mother promised, opening the microwave door to stir the soup. Catherine sighed, picked up the coffee carafe and refilled Grissom's cup before sitting across from him at the table. He knew she was picking at her nails under the table from her arm and shoulder movements. Staring into his coffee cup, he vainly tried to think of something witty to say to ease the tension.

"Soup's on!" Her mother cheerfully declared. "Careful - the bowl is hot." She warned as she sat it in front of him. "Would you like some crackers, maybe a glass of milk?"

"No, thank you and this smells wonderful."

"I hope you enjoy it. Well, it's getting late and I need to be getting home."

"I'll walk you out." Catherine said.

"Honey, I know we've had this conversation in the past and you probably don't want to hear it again………….."

"I know, Mom. Lindsey needs a father figure. And, believe me, I would really like to have a man in my life but Gil isn't exactly a 'family oriented' type of guy. He works more than I do. Lindsey would probably be better off with a photograph."

"Does he have any family?"

"Not really."

"Catherine, people change. Maybe he'd like to try it." Catherine bit her tongue, wondering what happened to her lecture of 'don't expect to change a man, you have to love him as he is' from when she married Eddie.

"I'm not sure I want Lindsey to be part of an experiment on his part."

"I'm just trying to help. I worry about you."

"I know and I appreciate it. Drive safe, okay? I love you."

"Love you too." Her mother started the car and backed out of the driveway, giving a quick wave when she pulled away. Catherine watched, until she turned the corner at the end of the street then went back in the house.

"So……….do you work tonight?" Catherine asked, as she sat down at the table. She was hoping to avoid any embarrassing conversations by rushing him out the door.

"I called in sick."

"You're kidding me." He never called in sick. In the past, she usually had to drag him out of the lab with threats of bodily harm before he infected the entire staff. For her, this was more proof of the mental derangement theory.

"No, I actually felt very ill when I woke up the first time so I called Sara to take shift, it'll be good experience for her. By the way, thank you for leaving the water and medication."

"As drunk as you were, I knew you would feel pretty bad when you woke up."

"I was that bad, huh?"

"Do you remember anything?" He pushed a pea around in the nearly empty bowl. Gathering his courage, he decided to let her know he remembered quite well what happened.

"I remember wishing I could have seen your face, been looking into your eyes when……..." He trailed off, but looked at her intently. Color stained her cheeks and she ran a hand through her hair. Realizing how uncomfortable she was, he wondered if he should've feigned ignorance and saved himself the pain of rejection and a ruined friendship. He didn't have many friends and the close ones, like Catherine, were precious to him.

"I, umm………"

"I wanted it to be good for you." He added, feeling as though he was grasping at straws. He desperately wanted her to see that there could be so much more between them.

"It was."

"I sense a 'but' coming on." He said and heard her sigh.

"It's just, I know you and even if you don't regret it right now, you will, later."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Sticks and StonesChapter 3

Disclaimer: These guys don't belong to me. If they did, things would most certainly be different.

Spoiler(s): Weeping Willows

Last chapter ended with……………….

"I sense a 'but' coming on." He said and heard her sigh.

"It's just, I know you and even if you don't regret it right now, you will, later."

"Thank you, for washing my clothes." Gil said to change the subject.

"They smelled like stale beer and cigarettes. I don't much care for that smell and I figured you didn't either." Catherine replied. He wondered if it was a veiled reference to Eddie. He disliked the thought of being even remotely similar to Eddie and finally decided it could just as easily been a reference to her time as a stripper. She stood up and walked into the living room, he heard the sliding glass door open and close, indicating she had gone outside.

"Well, this is a fine mess you've gotten yourself into." He mused aloud. He wasn't quite certain how or why the events of the day transpired as they had. He'd merely wanted to blow off some steam and convinced Brass to join him for a couple of beers. A couple had turned into many, with some shots of scotch thrown in, then Brass told him to talk to Catherine. Brass probably expected him to sober up first, but Gil was intent on taking his advice. So, when he got in the cab, he gave Catherine's address instead of his own.

The next thing he clearly recalled, he was emptying his pockets on her dresser. Then, he'd sat down in the chair by the dresser to take off his shoes and socks. Her robe was draped over the arm; he fingered the soft silky material for a moment, enjoying the feel of it against his fingertips. Overwhelmed by the desire to feel her skin against his, he stripped his shirt off then his pants and climbed in her bed.

Why she didn't just boot him out, he didn't know. Her initial irritation turned into vulnerability. He remembered how it was, although technically he was already a supervisor at the time. Without Brass to run interference for him, he had been uncertain and afraid. Wishing only to comfort her, he'd turned her face toward him, caressed her cheek with his thumb then kissed her. That kiss became one of many, gradually increasing in intensity until she was lying beneath him. He closed his eyes and could still feel her hands gliding over his back, caressing him, while he kissed her neck and the tops of her breasts. He lost himself in the sensation of touching her until her hands slid into his boxers. Somewhere along the way, her short nightgown had been pushed over her head and discarded by the side of the bed. She grasped an ass cheek in each hand and kneaded. When her hands slipped along his hips seeking his front, he eased up on an elbow and caught one in his.

"I'm afraid nobody's home down there." Her eyes met his, full of question.

"Too much beer." He offered in explanation. She nodded slightly, understanding. She was so beautiful, lying there in only her panties, hair spread on the pillow. He untangled his hand, ran it along her hip and up her side to cup her breast. Desiring nothing more than pleasing her, he resumed his ministrations.

He didn't have a lot of experience with this sort of thing but he had a biology degree, was well versed in human anatomy and had read a book or two containing sections on oral sex. Actually, he had read a number of books about sex, telling himself it was research for the job, and not his own insecurity in the bedroom. It was more difficult to get her panties off than to explore her private regions. Experimenting with different touches and techniques, he quickly memorized the ones that elicited a moan or a clinching of her fingers in his hair. He slipped one finger inside her then two, searching for that special spot. When he found it, he heard her frantically whisper. "Oh God, Gil!" He really did wish he could have watched her, been looking into her eyes when she climaxed.

He ran his hands through his hair and glanced down at his lap. From the tightness of his pants, he was well aware that everything was working appropriately now. Considering what his chances were at getting her back into bed, he scraped the last of his soup into the garbage disposal and rinsed the bowl. Looking for something to do, he opened the refrigerator door. On the top shelf, a six pack of Dos Equis lager resided, a sandwich bag held a partially cut up lime in the one empty sleeve. Pulling two bottles out, he located a bottle opener in the silverware drawer and popped the tops off. Carefully squeezing each slice of lime, he got most of the juice into each bottle then slipped the slice of lime inside. After rinsing his hands at the sink, he picked up the bottles and followed Catherine outside.

"Beer?" He offered. She was leaning against a porch post, staring at the night sky.

"Sure." She took the bottle and sipped. "You found the lime."

"Well, it was in a rather obvious spot." He could see her smile in the light from a street lamp.

"I'm surprised you're drinking so soon."

"Hair of the dog."

"That bit you." She finished, with a short laugh.

"It's nice out here." He slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her against his body, before sipping from his beer.

"One of the things I like about this house, is that you can't see the glow of the Strip in the backyard. When we bought it, there wasn't a neighborhood over there." She gestured toward the back fence with the hand holding her beer. The other had drifted over his arm, her fingers entwining with his. "It was still desert, no street light and it was so private."

"Everything changes."

"Umm, yeah, sometimes it's too bad."

"Sometimes it's for the best." He whispered in her hair, then added. "I won't regret it."

"Are you sure?"

"I pride myself on, not being an idiot…………………most of the time."

"You're never an idiot."

"I beg to differ. In affairs of the heart, I think I must be the biggest one of all."

"You just have to get your head out of the microscope once in a while."

"Umm. I was told once I should 'throw her up against the wall and kiss her like I meant it'. Do you think that was good advice?"

"Who told you that?"

"Charlotte."

"She would." Catherine giggled at the image. "I miss her. She was so funny."

"Yeah." He agreed. They stood there, quietly sipping their beer and enjoying the evening. "I never did, you know."

"What?"

"Throw her up against the wall."

"Why not?"

"Regardless of what she said, I figured I'd get a knee in a sensitive area." Catherine laughed out loud just as she was taking a sip of her beer. She snorted beer out her nose. He was laughing as he tried to help her. She ended up with her face buried in his chest.

"Beer with lime, it burns." She mumbled as the last of her giggles subsided. "I'll have to wash this shirt again."

"I think, I kind of like you washing my clothes."

"Don't get any ideas."

"Well then, just to let you in on a little secret, I think, I'd prefer you washing me."

"You just showered." She pointed out. "You'd have to get all hot and sweaty to warrant another shower so soon."

"Hot and sweaty." He mused. "I can think of ways to get like that."

"Show me." She challenged. He kissed her long and deep. She took his hand, led him into the house and up the stairs to her bedroom.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Sticks and StonesChapter 4

Disclaimer: These guys don't belong to me.

Spoiler(s): Weeping Willows

"Hey, what's up?" Sara asked, in reference to the page he had sent. Grissom was gulping down what appeared to be some sort of microwave pasta dish. Before he could answer, she ventured further into his office and peered at the dish. "What is that?"

"Chicken pasta bake with assorted vegetables or something like that." He answered around a mouthful. Picking up his water bottle he chugged half of it, wiped his mouth on his lab coat sleeve and picked up a handful of folders. Sara stared at the lab coat sleeve and hoped he hadn't been poking around in anything too nasty with it on.

"Why are you eating that now? Shift's almost over, you could get something decent on the way home."

"Can't, I'm catching a flight to Chicago in an hour. I don't have time to get anything beforehand and the last time I was on a long flight I got two tiny bags of pretzels – no food. I drank beer instead and I seriously doubt I presented a very professional appearance by the time I arrived. I have to sign up for the conference as soon as I get there, so microwave, freezer burned, crappy pasta is better than nothing."

"Well, there's not much there." She noted, studying the small black container. "So, when are you coming back?"

"Saturday and you're in charge until I get back. The top three files just need final review and a case narrative written." He stood up, handed them to her then scooped up most of what was left in the dish with a plastic fork. He stuffed it in his mouth and dropped the dish in the trash. Sara stood staring at him, in shock, while he stacked his briefcase and laptop on the top of his suitcase and wrapped the straps around the telescoping handle to secure them. His garment bag was smartly snapped to a built in attachment just under the handle.

"You're just leaving and dumping this on me for the whole week!"

"Yes, you'll be fine." He soothed. "If you have any problems or questions, call Catherine." He finished his water and tossed it in the trash as well. "I think, I'm all set."

"Catherine?"

"I have a taxi waiting out front and I've already discussed it with her. She doesn't have any problem with helping you so just call her." He patted her shoulder and started out the door then turned, glancing in the trash. "That will stink, by the time I get back." He gathered the trash bag and tossed it in one of the large lab trashcans on his way out the lab entrance.

"Like you would notice." Sara muttered after his retreating form.

Grissom felt a little guilty as he settled in the back of the cab. He lied to Sara. He had almost two hours before his flight but he had something else he needed to take care of and he didn't have time to answer all her inevitable questions. He was confident she'd be all right. Catherine promised to take care of her. Besides, none of the cases he left her with were due in court for at least a month. He had plenty of time to correct any errors when he returned.

"I need to make a stop at a flower shop on the way." He instructed the driver.

"Any one in particular."

"Doesn't matter, as long as they have decent flowers."

"There's a pretty good one on the way, not too expensive, about five minutes from the airport. I get my wife flowers there for her birthday and our anniversary."

"Sounds great."

A few minutes later, Grissom jumped out of the cab and entered the shop. It took him awhile to decide. He started to send pink roses because red might be too much and yellow were definitely out. He most certainly did not want to send a friendship message. After painfully extracting from him that the recipient of the flowers was a long time friend but recently an intimate relationship had evolved, the florist suggested something tropical.

"That's gorgeous, she'll love it." He said at the third arrangement presented. "Umm, could you attach one of those to it somewhere?" He pointed at the Cloisonné butterflies on display at the side of the counter.

"Certainly and you've made an excellent choice. Would you like to fill out the card, with a personal note, while I ring it up?"

"Card?" He looked at her blankly.

"Yes, flowers are usually accompanied by a card. We have five standard ones or you could chose something from the racks, but that will cost extra." She pointed to a small rack of greeting cards in the middle of the store. He glanced at his watch and decided it had been difficult enough just to choose the flowers.

"Standard will be fine." She laid them out on the counter for him to peruse. He glanced at his watch again and felt tremendous pressure; he was starting to run late and now he had to compose something on a card. Studying the cards, he chose the plainest one, mostly because he considered himself a simple man, then racked his brain for a suitable beginning.

"To the one I admire." The florist offered with a smirk. He glared at her as the taxi honked.

"Catherine," He began, then scribbled something to the effect of being sorry that they had exchanged little more than hello's this past week. He ended it with a promise to call. He sealed the little envelope and exchanged it and a signed receipt for his credit card then started to dash out of the shop.

"Hey! Where do I send it?"

Drawing a blank on her exact street address, he recited the lab address and fled. He gave the taxi driver an exorbitant tip, not having the time to wait for change. Then, he alternately raced and impatiently waited to get through the various bottlenecks of the airport. He made his flight with only seconds to spare. He hurriedly stuffed his briefcase and laptop in an overhead bin, sat down and fumbled with the seatbelt, finally securing it across his lap just as the flight attendant made the final walkthrough. After takeoff, he spent a good ten minutes berating himself. He could think of half a dozen Shakespeare quotes that would have been far better than the clumsy message he had jotted down.

Meanwhile, Sara looked through the folders he had thrust into her possession and decided to take them home. After three hours of pouring through them, she thought she had a pretty good idea of each case, some of which she had worked on, but wasn't really sure what to do with them now. Feeling out of her element, not to mention annoyed and confused that he didn't give her more warning and instruction.

She wondered if he had done this sort of thing to Catherine. Perhaps, that was why he acted as though he thought she should intuitively understand what needed to be taken care of. In the past, she had been a bit jealous that it was always assumed Catherine was automatically in charge when he was gone. She always thought it was just a seniority thing, and not a reflection of competency. Stifling a yawn, she decided the best course of action was to get some sleep and try to catch Catherine early.

Later that evening……………….

"Catherine? Hi, um, nice flowers." Sara put on her best friendly tone.

"Yeah, they are nice." Catherine smiled at the bouquet.

"New admirer?"

"I suppose you could say that." Catherine glanced at the file folders tucked under Sara's arm and quickly surmised the situation. "Let me guess, he dumped and ran."

"Yeah." Sara answered with a nervous giggle.

"That is sooo Grissom. Well, what have you got?"

"Three that need final review and a narrative written. I've written narratives for my cases but I've never done a final review………………."

"Okay, let me show you a couple of things. First, it's always good to know when he's going to take off on you. Judy keeps a calender of who's going where and when, on the E drive under Judy's stuff."

"Really?" Sara came round Catherine's desk and peered over her shoulder as she clicked on the file labeled Judy's stuff then opened another file labeled calender.

"He's gone to Chicago to the Great Lakes Forensics Conference. Let's see, he's presenting Thursday morning and plans to tour the local shop Wednesday afternoon."

"Wow, that's detailed. I didn't know Judy kept up with all this stuff. I always thought she was just being nosy."

"Somebody has to know what's going on around here. Since she reviews all the expense reports and submits them, it's good if she knows who was where and when. Anyway, I check this about once a week. It's always helpful to know when he's gonna split town so I can corner him and not get the 'here, please take care of this stuff, you'll be fine, see ya later' crap."

"Did he do this to you a lot?"

"All the time! The worst was when I had no warning. Now, I have a checklist I use when I review cases." Catherine rummaged through her file cabinet. "Initially, I made it up because Gil would question me for weeks about whether I checked this detail or that." She handed Sara a handful of checklists. "You've got all the standard stuff then several 'other' spaces. Put a check mark in the box for what is pertinent to the review and give a brief summary – a couple of lines will do. Just so he knows what discrepancies you saw and how you resolved them. If you check anything else, mark one of the other boxes and describe it. I promise it will save you a headache later. And, you know where the canned narratives are on the C drive, right?"

"Yep." Sara turned in the doorway on her way out, having developed a new appreciation for the more senior woman. "Catherine - Thanks, this is a lot of help."

"No problem, I see no reason to reinvent the wheel. If you need anything else, you know where I am."

Catherine sat back down at her desk and gazed at the flowers. Three bright red ginger flowers stair stepped up the middle, with two red Bird of Paradise flowers nestled between the top and middle ginger flowers. Tiny white and purple orchids rounded the bouquet at the bottom. She fingered the bright blue Cloisonné butterfly, which she had removed and tucked in her jacket pocket after taking a couple of pictures of the bouquet. It was a dead give away of exactly who had sent the flowers to her. She knew he didn't send butterflies to just anybody and this was the third time she'd been so fortunate.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Sticks and Stones Chapter 5

Disclaimer: These guys don't belong to me. If they did, things would most certainly be different.

Author's Note: I once read an account of Henry Lee attending the trade show of a conference. It was quite humorous, detailing how the vendors got out 'the good stuff' hoping to attract him to their product. In the CSI world, they would obviously go ga-ga over Grissom. Right? Of course, they would!

Spoiler(s): Weeping Willows and a couple of others but it's barely noticeable.

Catherine Willows smiled at the caller ID on her cell phone. "He did remember!" She thought then answered. "Willows."

"Hey, have I caught you at a bad time?"

"Not really, just kicking my shoes off and settling down on the sofa with a beer."

"Dos Equis with a slice of lime?"

"How'd you guess?" She facetiously asked. She sat her beer on the coffee table and piled a couple of throw pillows at one end, then plopped down, keeping the phone cradled to her right ear with her shoulder. Holding the phone with her left hand she flipped the lamp on.

"Umm, just put my superior power of deductive reasoning to use and imagined the inside of your refrigerator. I had this vision of a six pack of beer. The bottles were green and the label had two big red X's on it. There were slices of lime in a sandwich bag, tucked in one of the sleeves. How'd I do?"

"Very perceptive. I'm impressed." She answered with a giggle. "What's the number there?"

"Huh?"

"The number of your hotel." He fumbled around the bedside table and found a complimentary notepad with the phone number and address on it then read it off to her.

"And, your room number?"

"1241."

"I'll call you right back." He stared at his cell phone, when he realized the connection had been severed, not understanding her behavior. A minute later, his room phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Hey, so where were we?" She flipped the lamp off, reclined against the pillows and sipped her beer.

"Why'd you do that?"

"What?"

"Call my room."

"Well, I don't like to have private conversations on the company phone."

"Really?"

"Yes, is that a problem?"

"No, I just seem to recall you having some before."

"I've always tried to keep it as short as possible." He thought about it for a moment, jealously remembering one of the conversations he overheard. In the end, he decided it was best to let sleeping dogs lie, and not start a new argument; more name-calling was not what he had in mind.

"Besides, now that Conrad is in charge, I wouldn't put it past him to study the phone bills looking for any hint of impropriety." She continued. When she received no response, she tentatively asked. "Gil?"

"Yes."

"You haven't said anything. Is something wrong?"

"No……………..I was just thinking." He generally gave Ecklie as much thought as he did a turnip and considered him just about as important.

"About what?"

"Well, how was your day?" He smoothly changed the subject.

"Good. We closed three cases and I got the most beautiful bouquet of flowers, with a little blue butterfly attached."

"I take it you liked them."

"Yes."

"Butterflies are special to me."

"I know. Do you remember the times you've given them to me?"

"Certainly, when you solved your hundredth case and when Lindsey was born."

"Umm, yeah. Those were both good times. So, have you been hanging out with your entomological groupies?"

"No, thank the gods. I think most people flew in yesterday and registered this morning. They opened the trade show this afternoon so I'm sure most of them were taking it in; looks like it's pretty big. I ran into Scott Rush and he wanted to know when I was gonna go through it. I don't know why people are so interested in that."

"Because, that's when the good stuff comes out."

"Yeah, right."

"It's true! The vendors start pulling out the cool giveaways when you come through. By the way, bring me back a polo shirt from one of the big guys."

"Such as?"

"I don't care, Hewlitt Packard, Perkin-Elmer, I-Chem, any of them, just as long as the name is recognizable."

"A T-shirt won't do?"

"Nope, Conrad snagged a T-shirt at the last conference he attended and gave it to Joanne. He made it sound like the vendor thought he was a big deal and gave him the shirt. Later on, I was conferring with Matt Sharp, from LA, remember him?"

"Yeah, he's a nice fellow."

"Anyway, he told me Conrad won it as a door prize then made sort of an ass out of himself because the vendor had run out and couldn't give him one in a size that fit. Therefore, you need to bring me back a polo, preferably with a matching one for yourself. We can wear them to the picnic and remind him who the truly important guy is around here."

"I'll see what I can do." He knew he would probably try to talk her out of wearing them and antagonizing Ecklie unnecessarily. Unless, of course, Ecklie pissed him off again.

"So, if you weren't mixing and mingling, what have you been doing?"

"Well, after I checked in and got a nap, I had dinner and went for a walk. You can't tell anyone this – I bought a mystery novel in a bookstore."

"You're kidding me!"

"No, this author I really like has a new one out. It was in a bookstore window display and I thought what the heck, I should do something to relax a little. Then, I picked up a six pack of Dos Equis – I seem to have acquired a taste for that, just recently. But, I had a hard time finding a lime. Since then, I've been reading and drinking beer."

"That's all?"

"Hey! I've managed a beer and seventy or so pages an hour. I just opened my last beer so I figured I had better call you then get some sleep."

"Do you have a busy day planned tomorrow?"

"Yes, and Wednesday. I'm speaking to the Lion's Club Wednesday night and I present my paper on Thursday morning. That reminds me of something."

"What?"

"Well, there're only a couple of things I'm interested in on Thursday afternoon. The formal presentations are over by noon on Friday. So, I was thinking, maybe, I could get a flight back Thursday night and we could spend some time together."

"I like that idea."

"Do you think you could get Friday night off?"

"Probably. Warrick was kind of hinting that he would rather have Saturday off. We could trade but I really have to spend my night off with Lindsey. That's why I hadn't already offered. I'd have all day with her on Saturday."

"Oh, well, it was just a thought. I just, umm, ……………" He trailed off.

"You just, umm, thought what?" She asked after the line was silent for a moment.

"Well, I thought we could have Thursday night and Friday together and barbecue or something Friday night at your house but if you'd rather not have me around in your family time, I understand."

"Gil, I didn't mean it like that, you're always welcome around my family. That sounds fine, I'll check with Warrick tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay, call me when you know something so I can change my reservations."

"I'll take care of it first thing. Oh, hold it, won't that change your expense report?"

"It would if I was submitting one."

"Why aren't you putting one in?"

"I usually don't when I get paid for speaking – and the Lions Club is paying me. I ask for enough to cover my expenses. That way there are funds available for some of the other lab employees to attend a conference or something. If I give a good enough presentation, the local guys usually get some added support so everybody wins."

"Do you know how wonderful you are?"

"You really think that?"

"You betcha. Look, it's getting late and you need to get some sleep. I'll call you tomorrow, Okay?"

"All right, good night." He replied.

"You too…………and………….sweet dreams." She hung up.

"Of you." He whispered as he hung up the phone.

Lying in the darkness, he stared at the ceiling and considered Catherine's carefulness of Ecklie. Jim Brass had warned him to watch his back so perhaps she wasn't just being paranoid. He was well aware that she had much more politically savvy than he did. For the most part, he didn't care about Conrad's little power plays. He had his twenty years in and could retire if push came to shove but he realized he should be careful for Catherine's sake. She still had at least a year to go.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Sticks and Stones Chapter 6

Disclaimer: These guys don't belong to me. If they did, things would most certainly be different.

Author's Note: Anal retentiveness seems to be an unerring trait amongst scientific types. I struggle to overcome it myself. So with that said, I recently observed one of my colleagues making a list very similar to the one Grissom makes here. I couldn't resist teasing him unmercifully about it.

Spoiler(s): Weeping Willows

Gil Grissom sat quietly reading a forensics journal as he awaited take-off. This time he had ample time to catch his plane and was one of the first boarders. His study was interrupted when a raucous group of men, sporting Harley Davidson T-shirts, entered his area and began clamoring into their seats. The last one was a huge man, probably six-three and easily weighed three hundred pounds. He had on a Harley Davidson ball cap with his curly brown ponytail hanging down to the middle of his broad shoulders. Grissom found his T-shirt quite amusing; it read 'I beat anorexia.' A red arrow pointed down to his generous paunch.

"We need beer." Chirped one of his compatriots. He was much smaller with youthful features and dark hair.

"Doubt we can get one until we're in the air." Slurred another one. He had on a Harley cap with a slightly longer blonde ponytail.

"Gentlemen, how are we today?" Questioned the petite flight attendant. She had already flirted with Grissom for a few minutes when he settled into his seat.

"We'd be better with a beer!" Exclaimed another member of the group. He was short with a powerful build and a demeanor that screamed belligerence.

"Well, I'm afraid I can't serve you until we're in the air but after that you can just call me your 'beer girl'. Okay?"

"Heh, Heh. Our very own 'beer girl', how lovely." The large man in the anorexia shirt chortled with a toothy grin, which revealed a silver cap on the left front tooth. "Well, we'll need lots of Budweiser."

"I'll get the first round to you as soon as I can."

"Wonderful!"

To Grissom's amazement, the blonde ponytail guy pulled a crossword puzzle book out of his back pocket. Soon all four of the other men were hovering around him, supplying answers to the clues. The two leaning over the seat behind him grudgingly sat down and buckled their seat belts when the flight attendant came through and chastised them. As soon as the seat belt sign went off, they were leaning over the seat again.

"Vidi? How do you know that?" Asked the man in wire frame glasses. This was the first time Grissom actually heard what he said. Most of his comments had been muttered wisecracks, just loud enough for his fellow travelers to hear and answer with guffaws.

"One of the words is a clue in other crosswords! Veni, vidi, vici."

"Oh, right! And, this comes from a guy who calls Canadian Geese magnitory!"

"It's right!" Blonde ponytail guy insisted.

"Actually it is." Supplied anorexia T-shirt man. "Five down is voracious, six down is icon, seven down is doghouse and eight down is iambic."

"Well, what's it mean?"

"Haven't a clue."

"I came, I saw, I conquered - Julius Caesar**." **Grissom thought and considered telling them, but then decided he really didn't want to draw their attention.

After a few more minutes of listening to them, Grissom blocked them out by wondering what Catherine would be wearing when she arrived at his townhouse. He visualized various form-fitting articles of her wardrobe and couldn't decide which he preferred. He knew she would freshen her makeup and put on a dab of perfume. Would she be dressed to kill with her hair up or would she be relaxed and casual?

His thoughts soon gave way to fantasies of undressing her and laying her on his bed. He imagined how her skin would glow in golden tones in the candlelight. It would feel so good to lightly graze his fingertips over her soft skin in tender caresses. Jolting back to reality, he desperately tried to recall if he even had any candles. He remembered a four pack of emergency candles in a utility drawer and some tea lights in the kitchen – none of which were in the least bit romantic. Too much time had slipped by since he last attempted to woo a woman; he should've put more thought into this.

Retrieving his briefcase from the overhead bin, he pulled out a legal pad and began making a list of things he would need. First, he had to know how much time he would have to prepare. He'd call her as soon as he landed in Vegas and use the excuse of letting her know he had arrived. Then, he could casually inquire as to when she thought she might arrive at his place. If time was short, he could have the taxi stop at a grocery store on the way and grab the minimum items. What about dinner? Would she like for him to pick up some take out? At the very least, he needed something for breakfast. He had wine but she usually preferred white wine and that needed to be chilled. That would be another item on the grocery list.

Two hours later, he had a satisfactory list together. He'd carefully ruled three columns on his pad, the headings arranged by what she desired and the amount of time he would have. Reviewing it one more time to be certain he had every contingency covered, he tore the page off the pad, neatly folded it and tucked it in his pocket.

"What's this?" He heard anorexia T-shirt man loudly inquire, now that he was no longer intensely concentrating on personal matters.

"Olympia." The blonde ponytail guy read the label. He took a swig and blurted out. "My God, this stuff is awful!"

"Sorry guys, you've drank all the other beer we have." The flight attendant answered.

"Really?"

"Yep, you've cleaned out the Bud, Miller and Busch. After this, all I have left are three O'Douls."

"Oh my, that's sad." Anorexia T-shirt man said. His retinue collectively pondered this apparent tragedy and looked appropriately depressed, until he brightly suggested. "Well then, we need to make a beer stop."

"Very funny." The flight attendant replied.

"Hmm, you got any Jack?" Inquired the belligerent one.

"Plenty." The mood of the group quickly improved.

"So, Jack Daniels and coke, all around?" She asked.

Vigorous head nods answered except for the fellow in the wire framed glasses. "Make mine, Jack and 7-UP."

The general cacophony of the group resumed as she left to fetch their drinks. Grissom glanced at his watch; they still had well over an hour of flight time remaining. He sincerely hoped these guys weren't picking up a rental car upon arrival.

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Sticks and StonesChapter 7

Disclaimer: These guys don't belong to me. If they did, things would most certainly be different.

Author's Note: You must remember I started writing this a year ago.

Spoiler(s): None

Gil was standing in front of his closet when the doorbell rang, announcing Catherine's arrival. He'd been trying to decide whether to change clothes. He wanted to put on the royal blue rayon shirt Catherine had complimented him on in the past but couldn't decide between shorts or khaki pants. Currently, he still had on the navy suit pants and white shirt he'd worn to give his presentation, although he'd kicked off his shoes and stripped off his socks.

"No time to change now." He thought. He went over his list one more time as he padded to the door.

He had manicotti and fresh bread, picked up from the Italian place in the same shopping center as the grocery, keeping warm in the oven. Pre-packaged salad dumped in a serving bowl, with fresh mushrooms and cherry tomatoes, waited in the refrigerator. A bottle of Spanish Merlot was open on the table. Candles were lit on the dining room table and placed strategically in the bedroom. He'd brushed his teeth and put on some cologne. He shouldn't be nervous but he was. He paused at the door before opening it and unbuttoned another button on his shirt, hoping it would make him seem more relaxed than he felt.

"Hello." He said warmly after opening the door.

"Hey there." She replied and slipped inside. She had a leather overnight bag and her purse hanging from one shoulder.

"Let me take that for you."

"Why, thank you." She caught the little smile at the corner of his mouth as he turned away. He sat her purse beside his briefcase and laptop then surprised her by taking her overnight bag into the bedroom.

"What?" He asked when he returned to find her smiling.

"Being a little bold, aren't you?" She glanced at the bedroom.

"You brought it in." He parried as he settled his hands on her waist. "Now, let's see, I think a more appropriate greeting would be something like this." They shared a long deep kiss.

"Umm, I like the way you say 'Hello'." She said breathlessly.

"Hungry?"

"Starved."

"Have a seat. Dinner will be served shortly."

Catherine sat down at the table, kicked her shoes off and admired his handiwork. The table was cleared of the books, journals and mail that usually occupied it, candlelit and set cozily for two. She turned the wine bottle to read the label and thought. "Perfect! A good wine, not too expensive but not cheap and it will be wonderful with manicotti."

"Cath, what kind of salad dressing would you like?"

"What do I have to choose from?" She asked, returning from her admiration of Gil's good taste.

"Balsamic vinaigrette, Blue Cheese, Ranch, or Catalina."

"I'll take the vinaigrette."

"Excellent choice." Gil replied; voice muffled by the refrigerator door. The expiration date was far past recommended on the Catalina and Blue Cheese.

"What?"

"Why don't you pour the wine?" He said as he straightened to bring the salad and dressing to the table.

"That looks good." Catherine commented, eyeing the salad.

"Main course is on its way." Gil quickly grabbed a couple of potholders and whisked the foil containers out of the oven and to the table. He peeled the foil back and dished each a hearty helping while Catherine transferred salad to individual bowls. He offered her some bread then took two slices for himself.

"You got out the china." Catherine observed as she picked up an individually wrapped packet of butter from a small bowl.

"It was Mother's. Actually, I believe this is the first time it has been used since she passed away. It seems such a waste, for it to just sit in the cabinet but I couldn't bear to part with it. Too many memories." He answered, looking a bit forlorn. Catherine smiled as she sipped her wine.

"What?"

"I just think, that's sweet. Sometimes you really surprise me with how sentimental you can be."

"Well, it was a tradition……………to use the china when it was a special occasion." Gil reflected while he worried over the 'sweet' label. He had the misguided notion that being considered sweet might be the kiss of death for a relationship.

"So, this is a special occasion?" Catherine inquired thinking the faraway look in his eyes related to his mother.

"I think so." He answered remembering this was Catherine and they had a long history – he wasn't going to blow this by being sweet.

"Good."

"So, how have things been?" He asked to change the subject, spearing a forkful of salad.

"At the lab or at home?"

"Both."

"Well, let's see. Lindsey's soccer team lost the first game out and she was depressed until I told her she could go to camp this summer. Mom fussed at me for missing the game. Jeremy broke his arm and Nancy and Phil are contemplating a renewal of their vows on their next anniversary." Catherine paused to sip some wine and scoop sauce on a piece of bread.

"When's their anniversary?" Gil inquired, seizing on the last bit of Willows family information overload.

"July."

"Well," he responded with a raised eyebrow, "they better get a move on, it's nearly the end of May already."

"I suspect they'll just go to Hawaii or something. Nancy knows if she asks for something like renewing the vows, Phil won't balk at spending the money to take a vacation."

"Good plan." Gil commented thinking that Catherine's ability to manipulate must be a hereditary trait shared by her sister.

"Okay, so here's the good stuff!" Catherine leaned toward him conspiratorially.

"What?"

"Sara has a new fan."

"Really?" He couldn't resist leaning toward her even though they were all alone in his townhouse. "Who?"

"Thaddeus Reginald Bowman, the third." She put extra emphasis on 'the third' then attacked her salad.

"The new guy on days?" Gil furrowed his brow in concentration; a forkful of manicotti paused halfway to his mouth.

"That's the one. He's filled in for two grave shifts in your absence. Nick and Warrick are taking bets on whether she shoots him or falls head over heels."

"He's kind of odd, isn't he?" Grissom tried picturing Sara and Thaddeus Bowman together. It didn't work. Sara was Birkenstocks, jeans and a comfy T-shirt. Thaddeus wore a suit and tie to work everyday and never, ever broke a sweat. He had visibly bristled when Jim Brass tried to shorten his given name to Thad.

"It's probably just the upbringing. He's from the 'old south', Alabama, I think." Catherine stated then with a merry twinkle in her eyes added. "Who knows, maybe he's a real romantic at heart. You know, the magnolia's and moonbeams from your eyes sort."

"Yeah, but he's pale and skinny and his eyes have no color." He rebutted recalling Thaddeus's vapid eyes and nearly white blonde hair.

"I thought they were sort of green." Catherine replied, dredging up the last bit of sauce on her plate with her last chunk of bread.

"Well then, they're a really pale green." Gil stated, repeating her procedure on his own plate.

"So, what's for dessert?" She asked, pushing her plate aside.

"Ahhh……." He'd totally forgotten dessert. He had some ice cream that had to be at least a month old. He wondered if he could scrap the freezer burn off, unnoticed.

"Me?" Catherine prodded. From the blush that went all the way to the tips of his ears, she surmised she was correct.

"Gil, it's okay." She comforted. "I mean, I was sorta planning on things ending in the bedroom. Weren't you?"

"Yeah," he answered then admitted. "I've never been very good at the seduction end."

"So far, I think you've done just fine. Let's clean up the dishes, okay?"

"He's nervous." She thought. They spent some time cleaning up the dishes. He carefully washed the china and she dried. He was standing in the kitchen wrapping foil over the leftovers lost in thought. She filled their glasses with the last of the Merlot and entered the small kitchen.

"Come on." Catherine handed him his glass then took his hand and led him to the bedroom.

"Cath?" Gil began.

"It's just me." She soothed then asked. "Any fantasies you might like to indulge in?"

"Definitely." He admitted.

"Show me." She encouraged with a brief kiss. "I've always wondered what you fantasize about." Catherine pulled him in for a deep, long kiss.

"Candle light." Gil muttered breaking from the kiss.

"Say again?"

"You want to know my fantasies?" Gil solicited then informed. "Your skin and candle light play a great part in most of them." He lit candles on each side of the bed and turned out the lights. When he returned he found her standing nude, silhouetted by the flickering light.

"Jesus!" He huskily whispered.

"Too much?"

"Definitely not." Gil allowed himself to drink in the sight then added. "Though, completely perfect comes to mind."

"I'm glad you approve. However, I think you are overdressed for the occasion." She began unbuttoning his shirt.

"That can be remedied." He replied unfastening his pants then pulling them and his boxers off in one quick motion.

"What was the fantasy again?" Catherine asked as his shirt joined the pile at his feet.

"So many to chose from, so little time." Gil mumbled then slid his hands along her hips and up her ribs to caress her breasts. "The latest one had you lying on my bed, naked."

"Like this?" She asked after climbing on the bed and leaning back against a pillow.

"Yes." He followed her onto the bed. "And then, I touch you like this." He caressed slowly up her thigh, hip, traced her rib cage and ended by gently circling her nipple with his thumb.

"Catherine?" Gil gently queried.

"Yes?" She answered, slightly piqued at his interruption of her anticipated pleasure.

"I don't think I can go as slow as in my fantasy."

"We can do slow, later."

TBC


End file.
